Fleeting moments
by Akin
Summary: A moment between Aragorn and Faramir...
1. Default Chapter

_ This is AU. Eowyn nor Arwen aren't here. Happens somewhere after defeat of Sauron. _ **Fleeting moments**

Numerous big fires illuminated far-stretching meadows bordering with woods. Loud cheers of pure joy flew far into to dark night, reaching where the light of the feast-fires couldn't. This time, it was fire of the victory, not of the destruction. Sauron had been defeated and numerous races of Middle-earth embraced with fierce expectations the freedom. 

Aragorn smiled to himself while watching his small hobbit-friends on the other side of the large fire. After long days of terror, heavy fear on their faces had been replaced by a new hope. Pippin and Merry entertained the other participators of the feast with merry tales, drawing all interest.  
Aragorn was thankful for that, relishing the offered small piece of privacy.  
With slow, small paces, he moved without notice away into the shadows. The threatening darkness of the near wood swallowed him. 

As he walked away the light of the fire was diminishing until it only occasionally flickered between the tall trunks. Here and there Aragorn could recognise sung, or rather shouted words of merry songs. With each step all this was fading away. 

The air was brisk. Aragorn inhaled deeply the mixed scent of leaves and wet soil. Silently he carefuly chose his way on the slippery ground.  
Between the tops of the trees he could catch a glimpse of the skies. The two-days lasting rain finally stopped and the clouds were wandering, making space for flickering stars. Large raindrops glistened in their silver rays as if the trees cried pearls.

A soft fresh wind was playing with Aragorn's hair, singing with the trees its strange melody. He could see several small animals eyeing him from the night. Wandering in the inviting darkness, he relished the blessing silence. 

The thick wood started to thin and trees reluctantly stepped aside. Walking under the cover of the last trees, Aragorn spotted a hidden tiny meadow within a wood enfolded in the darkness. A fallen trunk laid across it.   
Something moved. Aragorn looked keenly upon the fallen tree and reconised a lonely figure leaning on it.

It was a man turned with his side to Aragorn, shoulder-long locks were falling along the cheeks hiding stranger's face.  
The clouds swam away, the shadows lifted and suddenly the whole meadow glimmered in the silvery rays of moon. Aragorn recognised the man as Faramir.

The Steward was half sitting on the trunk, bent a little. The locks of blonde hair were hiding the clear-cut features of the handsome face.   
Aragorn made a step forward and entered the meadow. A stick under his boot cracked. Faramir's hand shot to the hilt of the sword as he stood up abruptly. When he recognised the intruder he sat back wearily.   
"My king..." It wasn't welcoming, nor avoiding. The shoulders sank back again.  
The young man of Gondor suddenly looked weary and old. His eyes looking somewhere into the darkness of the wood, he resembled so much his fallen brother Boromir and yet was so different... 

Aragorn sat down at the trunk, with his back to Faramir, gazing into the darkness just like the man at his side. Neither of them spoke.  
The silence was stretching, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Aragorn felt something was burdening the young man heavily, so he sat back, patiently listening to the silence.  
The damp air was slowly creeping into his clothes touching his skin.  
He couldn't move, he didn't want to move. If he did, the silent bond of agreement could disappear.  
The stars shone unusually bright, the night would be cold.   
"It's difficult...."  
Aragorn nearly missed the flustered words, he turned head to Faramir, but there was nothing more coming. The steward fell silent again. Aragorn heard the man's silent breathing. An owl somewhere deep in the night revealed its existence, a star fell.   
"I'd never believe it hurts so much to lose those you hate....and love. I am nothing but a shell. Too much was lost. There is nothing left for anyone to take."   


The words hung between them frozen in the cold air together with the silence. Aragorn was relieved he couldn't see Faramir's face. The words weren't self-pity, the Steward meant every syllable. Aragorn slowly turned. Faramir sat still, gazing into the night. Elessar wanted to say something wise, to bring comfort, yet his throat was dry. He opened mouth... 

"Here you are!!!" 

The ranger turned shocked to the source of unexpected disturbance- a hobbit.  
Pippin stood under a large tree, gazing straight at Aragorn. Hobbit's eyes were big with concern. Aragorn felt his heart quicken in anger, but looking at his small merry friend, it was impossible to feel it.  
"I am glad I've found you, we were afraid something might have happened..." The hobbit stopped when he finally spotted Faramir and realised for the first time he might have interrupted something.   
"Oh, lord Faramir, I didn't notice you at first," Pippin looked closer ,"is everything alright with you?"   
Faramir smiled a small, nearly genuine smile. "Of course, Pippin. Let's get back to the others." 

Without a word the Steward stood up, passed by Aragorn and disappeared into the darkness in the direction of the numerous fires. 

Aragorn gazed at his back. He had a feeling, in the fleeting moment of shared understanding, he had been offered to see something what only rarely could be seen. Pain of a king. There was much more of it and if not for Pippin's disturbance he would have been allowed to see.

Aragorn looked at the Hobbit standing at his side. No, he couldn't be angry. It would be in vain. The fleeting moment had passed. Slipped between his fingers, the words stayed unspoken, no comfort was given.   


***


	2. Brothers and fathers

_ This is AU. Eowyn nor Arwen aren't here. Happens somewhere after defeat of Sauron. _ **Fleeting moments**

Aragorn walked around Minas Tirith. The celebration was over and sunrays tickled his face. The city was unusually quiet. Most of the people were sleeping or too sick to step into the mercilessly burning sun.

Aragorn entered the drill yard. Only a single person was there.  
The man was standing with a dead-like grip on a big bow, ready to shoot. Through the thin fabric covering the upper part of his body Aragorn could see tense muscles. An arrow flew up, surely hitting its target. The man was Faramir.   
The late night conversation they shared sprang to Elessar's mind.  


_*I'd never believe it hurts so much to lose those you hate....and love. I am noting but a shell. Too much was lost. There is nothing left for anyone to take.*_

"Good shot!"   
The steward turned to him, not quite able to hide resentment in the stormy eyes. Aragorn knew the younger man wasn't comfortable in his presence, yet could he ignore a pain so immense? 

Faramir shrugged with shoulders, walking to the target he said in even voice.  
"Minas Tirith is mother to many good and brave soldiers."  
"I am sure many new will be born here."  
"Those who were lost can't be replaced by any of them."  
"No one asks for that to be done. Our memories of them buried in our hearts would not allow that."

The steward retreated all arrows from the target and returned to Aragorn's side. Standing face to face with Elessar he softly stated. "Indeed. Memories are all what is left for us."  
"We have much more. We have days which are yet to come."  
Faramir smiled sadly. "We have to live them, for who else would remember. Though there is not much to remember."  
"It must be difficult to live to somebody's expectations, to be a shadow." Aragorn could see this cut deep. Despite the sudden and hurtful turn Faramir beheld his composure.  
"The burden is bearable if there is someone to help. My brother was a proud man, maybe too much, but the best one I knew. Just like a shadow needs light to exist, I needed him. He was my light."  
"What about thee father?"  
"I had never known my father. I lived up to expectations of Lord Denethor. A life hard to live. But he was never unjust, nor did he judge too fast. He saw all mistakes just as I had made them. No better, no worse."

Looking at the wise youth, Aragorn mused. "Mistakes... there surely weren't many."  
Faramir's voice was heavy. "More than a heir and a steward could afford. I hated and loved him. I despised him. I despised myself for the love I hated to feel towards my father. Denethor was my passion to prove. And my brother the passion to love. I lost both parts of my heart. Alas! There is no hope for those without heart!"  
"Do not regard yourself as heartless, Faramir. There is too much emotion within you to find your chest empty. Dark hours are yet to come into your life, bear them bravely son of Gondor like you always did."

Something close to amusement twinkled in Faramir's eyes.  
"You must have had hard bearing with my brother. For you sound so much like him and it is fairly well known _'what I despise on the other is what I hate most keenly in my own character.'_ You two were too much alike to be comfortable around each other. My brother is gone and yet I have a feeling he is watching over me through the eyes of another brother."  
"There are more brothers and fathers around you who can help to put shattered pieces into right shape."  
"The picture won't be the same as it used to be."  
"Nothing is as it used to be. But maybe that is our hope, be not blind to it."  
Faramir smiled a smile not so sad anymore. Probably he had been blind...but he found new eyes and maybe even hope.   


***


	3. where the heart is

_ This is AU. Eowyn nor Arwen aren't here. Happens somewhere after defeat of Sauron. _ **Fleeting moments**

Aragorn walked out from the dim hall to the yard and blinked in the sudden light that blinded him. He walked slowly through the Citadel-gate. 

Sun occasionally sent some warm rays from behind the snowy-white clouds. Fresh green trees around the Houses of healing were making Aragorn feel younger- a feeling always welcomed after the dull meetings of the council.  
The silence of this place was calming his soul. He was eagerly reaching out to anything green reminding him of his former life. A life not happier maybe, but different. 

Aragorn looked away from the small white stones rustling under his feet to a silent empty corner of the healing gardens. With a surprise he caught there a glimpse of the figure, he had been looking for. He stepped from the white-lined path onto the grass waving in the soft breeze. He crossed the distance to Denethor's younger son in a light pace. 

Faramir was laying on the back with his arms folded under his head, looking on the sky. His face was peaceful and young, nearly boyish.

With a hint of satisfaction Aragorn noted that the previously pale cheeks held more healthy colour now. Although Faramir was moving freely in the city and was already practising with the bow again, Aragorn still treated him as a patient, who needed to be taken care of.   
"How are you faring?"  
Faramir's grey eyes mirroring the azure skies had a lively shade of blue, nearly sparkling.   
"I am very well, thank you."

Aragorn looked around and then sat down to the younger man.   
He came to look at the healing wound of his patient, yet he didn't have the heart to disturb the peace Faramir had found.

"I though you were supposed to stay in the Houses of Healing."  
Faramir smiled dreamily. "I wanted to look at the clouds. They look like spume on the sea."

Aragorn laid silently down into the silken grass and inhaled the soft scent of the nature mixed with Faramir's. White, plumped up clouds were hovering above them so close that it was just enough to stretch out a hand to touch the nacre beauty.   
"Do you hear their call?"  
Aragorn was stunned by the question, but he closed his eyes and listened to the calm breeze and to the quiet breathing of the man laying next to him. Then he slowly shook his head.   
Faramir's voice was silent. "I used to hear their call. I wanted to follow it so much, it hurt. I dreamt of flying high and touching them. To be one of them, beautiful, free. So I can fly anywhere, where my heart would take me."

Gentle wind was preening their hair, yet the clouds stayed on the same place.   
Aragorn opened his eyes again and looked at Faramir. His voice was husky, betraying the emotions he felt. "Do you still wish to follow? To go away?"  
Faramir turned to him and looking straight into his eyes he calmly replied. "No. I've found my harbour. My heart wouldn't...couldn't lead me anywhere, for it lies here." 

Aragorn laid back down with unexpected relief. The clouds moved away, clearing the sky. 

***


End file.
